


let's see what daylight brings

by ohmaggies



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: An Analysis of The Hug Scene, M/M, Post-Endgame, Relationship can be read as romantic or platonic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 11:10:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmaggies/pseuds/ohmaggies
Summary: “I was scared, Lieutenant,” Connor manages, doesn't know why his voice doesn't sound like his own. He doesn't search for this, resigns to doing what humans do and decides to let it be instead. Some other day, some other time, he'll be able to put an exact name to what this is instead of worrying that it's a type of software malfunction. “For us, for you.”.the hug scene.





	let's see what daylight brings

**Author's Note:**

> i watched one (1) playthru of this game and now it's my entire life apparently. i wanted to write this real quick to kinda get everything i was thinking out and i'm happy with it! i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

There's a mumbling in Connor's mind, a whirring that he can't pinpoint but leaves his LED flashing deep yellow as his feet crunch in the snow. It's cold, he guesses- can't be entirely sure, but the person with their back to him is wearing layers finished off with a heavy coat, their feet clad in large boots. Connor breathes unnecessarily into the air to feel the small spark of disappointment that it doesn't come out white, to feel something other than a growing desperation to be somewhere with someone.

He should say something, hands curling into fists as he slowly reaches them out then decides against it. They don't know he's here yet and he's not sure himself why he's standing in the snow like this, except for a small nagging in the back of his mind that decided he needed to carry out this mission.

_Find Hank._

Androids are safe, and Connor is safe, and the world won't try to kill him for a while now. Eventually it will, but for right now, in this moment with this person who isn't aware it's a moment, he's safe. He can't recall being programmed to try and secure his own well-being, just to do what he must to accomplish whatever task he was given. He always accomplishes his mission, this staring at Hank's back proving that.

He wasn't loyal to Cyberlife or Amanda or anyone who he once thought he had to be; he's loyal to Hank, maybe that's what really counts. Hank, who's breathing patiently into the cold and shoving his hands in his pockets as he glares at the road where Connor might be, a quick scan revealing his dropping body temperature. Connor wants to go over to him and say his name, prove they're both alive and real, and-

He's not quite sure what comes after that, all he can hope is that it's what he needs. (“Needs”, that will take a little getting used to, conforming to what's expected of him now that he's deviant. He's still Connor, still the same plastic boy Hank is standing here in the early hours of morning waiting for- still him, just more the him he has time to carve for himself. He'll always be an android, can't shake some of that like Hank can't shake his alcohol dependency, but now he's free. This Connor he's grown to be can be whoever he chooses, now he's not being monitored or controlled.)

Despite the knowing he can choose his future, he's quite sure the choice was already made for him. Even if he had the option of picking, like it would ever be anything other than Hank. Connor's never known a home, but he think he might like one, house or police station, or a person to rely on. Something he can know, can rely on to always be there no matter what. 

He's never felt this before- this push, this ‘I belong here,’ that resonates within him as he steps towards Hank. It's loud, an audible clue that Hank instantly recognises, and every warning, every moment he spent after seeing Hank the last time trying to understand why he didn't feel quite right, is instantly silenced the second he catches a glimpse of Hank's face. If he knew what relief was like, maybe he'd recognise it- instead, every loose wire, every warning signature, fixes itself instantly.

Hank doesn't have to say anything because Connor understands, eyes recording and taking in every detail of Hank's face. He smiles, something about it warm enough for Connor to forget that it's snowing. His own lip tugs at the corner and he gives into it, into Hank's approaching figure and the bright of something in his eyes, and his hands letting a stumbling Connor fall into him. The snow crunches, the sun silently parting the remainders of night, and Hank's fingers rest at the back of Connor's head; if this were anyone else it might be unpleasant, but it's _Hank_.

“I'm glad you're alright, kid,” Hank says, swallowing around whatever was making it hard for him to speak. “Good to see ya.”

Connor holds onto him tight, eyes closed before there's a foreign sensation that builds in them and forces him to open it. He's seen it before, on whatever little snippets of television programs he managed to see while with Hank, and the numerous programs installed to his hardware about subjects like this. Crying, an overwhelming emotion response to something; Connor's felt emotions in the past, it's hard not to when you're deviating. This, however, is different, in a way that makes him confused and scared all at once.

He was afraid for Hank, for what might happen to him or if he'd even want to see Connor again now that their original arrangement was over. Connor's glad he's here, that they both are, and his databases return a single word in return when he relies on them to explain this: joy. He's happy he's alive, that Hank's alive, that Hank wants to see him after everything that's happened. A normal emotional response to events like this, this strange wet in his eyes and down his cheeks that begin to soak and crystallise amongst snowflakes on Hank's jacket.

“I was scared, Lieutenant,” Connor manages, doesn't know why his voice doesn't sound like his own. He doesn't search for this, resigns to doing what humans do and decides to let it be instead. Some other day, some other time, he'll be able to put an exact name to what this is instead of worrying that it's a type of software malfunction. “For us, for _you_.”

“You're alright, Connor, you're good.”

His body, his coat now wet on one shoulder, is safe against Connor. If this is being a deviant, if this is learning what it's like to defy his own programming, then Connor can accept that. He's afraid, but this comforting presence with him is home in a way nothing else is, if androids can even have homes. Connor suspects they can, and even if they can't, he's not going to find somewhere without Hank. He is home now, he and Sumo, who Connor particularly likes, whether he wants to be or not.

Dogs imprint on humans, Connor read that somewhere once. Maybe Hank was right, when he'd joked that Connor followed him everywhere, like a poodle. Maybe he'll be right for a very long time.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading  ♡. kudos and comments appreciated!


End file.
